Prey Youngling Line
by KiaMianara
Summary: AU; Sidestory to "Leader Line" about the younglings raised by the Autobots and their respective caretakers
1. First Aid

**Author Comment:**

Yes, I'm still alive and yes, I finally managed to finish the first chapter of the promised side story to "Prey - Leader Line" about the younglings the Autobots had raised over time.

I have planned a total of three, maybe four chapter, but you don't necessarily need to read every part to understand the others.

The warning is because of the fate of First Aid's creators. Personally I don't think it's necessary, but I rather not take chances.

And last but not least a thing or two about Cybertronians' understanding of time and some general knowledge

Breem - 8.3 Earth minutes

Joor - About 6.5 Earth hours

Orn - About 13 Earth days

Vorn - About 83 Earth years

Sparkling – Newborn (about 2 vorns max. until they start to walk and talk)

Youngling – Child (following 8 – 10 vorns)

These numbers are put in by me. They are not official or anything; I just needed something for orientation, which brings me to another word creation of mine for something often used, but never given a name as far as I know:

"Shiver vorns" – max. first 5 vorns of younglinghood (so until their 7th vorn after being created), when they still need to be monitored constantly and carried around much, since they can't control their own body heat and grow cold fast and also tired. They are also referred to as "Blanket vorns", which is meant very literally. It's a common tradition (and a necessaries) that the creators give as a first present a blanket to the new sparked being, so he or she won't grow cold, but some Transformers stay with that habit their whole life.

*~*~*~*~*

Although the war had raged over their planet for a long time already when he was sparked First Aid's early youth could be considered a happy one.

His family was neither rich nor important in any way and they often had to move to avoid the worst war-grounds, but his creators loved him dearly and he loved them in return, so their sudden death naturally would have been painful for him no matter what. It would have pushed him off road for some time, but then he would have moved on, found himself someone else who would take care of him until he could do it himself. That was what they had prepared him for, wishing and hoping their only creation would survive even if something unfortunate happened to them while he was still too young to survive on his own.

Still there had been no way they could have foreseen First Aid would have to watch his creators being raped and torn in pieces in his fifth vorn, while he was unable to do anything else than cry silently and hide under their recharge-berth, just like they had taught him to do when strangers came.

War forced people to grow up faster, so although being young First Aid knew his creators were dead when the invaders, murderers, finally went away; he knew what being dead meant, too, and that they couldn't be brought back to life, at least not by him, but still there was a huge difference between understanding and accepting, so although knowing it wouldn't change anything he tried to repair them like he had seen them do with other quite a few times, but he didn't knew how, so in the end he had to accept his defeat and being too weak and inexperienced to give them any kind of funeral he just laid down between their broken corpses. He thought about how they had told him over and over again what to do in this case – leave and search for a new caretaker among those with blue optics, but avoid those with red ones – but he couldn't. The fear that all Cybertronians were like the murderers of his creators was too great and why else had he been told to _always_ hide?

How long he remained like this First Aid couldn't tell. At some point he became hungry, but he already knew that feeling from before and couldn't do anything against it anyway. The few energon-cubes they had had stored had been stolen by the strangers and he didn't knew where and how to get new ones, so he just stayed where he was until he heard footsteps approaching.

Someone was coming to their home turned grave, like it happened when his creators died. He still could hear their order to hid echo in his processors and scared he hurried under their berth, his blanket, the only thing left in his possession, guarding him from all optics.

Someone knocked. First Aid peered off from under his blanket.

That was new; the others hadn't knocked, so maybe ... no. He couldn't be sure about that. The door was already gone, so knocking didn't necessarily mean this stranger – at least he hoped it was only one – was any better than the others.

"Primus below!"

Out of everything that the youngling had expected this was the most harmless reaction. Just that one surprised outcry and white feet hurrying to the empty shells of his creators. The stranger kneeled down, revealing white legs, arms and parts of a white torso, and carefully ... well, what _was_ he doing?

First Aid wasn't sure about that. It seemed the mech just put them into a more comfortable position and then remained there, unmoving. He couldn't see his face, but the other looked sad and as defeated as the younger felt, but he couldn't imagine why. After all had he never seen a mech with so much white and that almost everything existed before he did was something he was still too young to understand yet, but he figured that maybe this mech wasn't as bad as the others ... but what if he was and, almost more importantly, was that energon the elder pulled out of subspace? He was eating it, so it had to be, hadn't it? If it wouldn't have been for his fear ...

First Aid didn't fear death itself, just everything that could happen between now and his final shut down and he had seen with his own optics that that included a lot of painful things.

Hunger; fear to face the same fate as his creators; loneliness; the possibility to be welcomed, to be finally safe again ...

*~*~*

Since it was Wheeljack's invention Ratchet hadn't expected it to do what the inventor had told him it should for one astrosecond, so he wasn't really surprised when it didn't lead him back to base – why the other had felt the need to invent something like that was beyond him anyway – but that it brought him to a worn down building and in this flat to top that instead was a new low for the inventor's already infamous knickknacks. The scenery – broken furnishings, energon everywhere, the cold, thorn bodies screaming out what had happened – just hid far too close to home.

"Primus below!"

The medic hurried to the wounded although his sensors told him that they were already long perished, but he just had to make sure as long as there was still a small chance that ... no. There was nothing left for him to do; he was orns to late to help, but although he knew that and hadn't seen these people before it still felt like a personal defeat, as if there had been something he could have done for them. Instantly his processors tried to come up with a way how he could have prevented this from happening, but no matter how long he thought about it, there simply no way. The only thing left for him to do was move the corpses into a less humiliatingly position and that was when he found traces of a much smaller body in the dried fluid.

'_Not again, not an other one'_ shot through his processors and he let his sensors scan the room again.

To his relieve but also horror he found an energy signature, small and weak, but alive. The picture the hints painted would have made him bleach, left aside that nobody would have noticed since he already was of mainly white colour.

A youngling was here, very likely the creation of the unfortunate couple in front of him, and it had probably also had been here when its creators died.

The last thought prevented him from following his scanners and run to the youngling. The small being was very likely already scared to death and would interpret every movement in his direction as a possible threat and run away into certain termination. Sure, he had heard the Decepticons had a similar youngling policy as the Autobots, but not everyone cared to follow that order as this and his own younglinghood proved. The youngling would have to come to him and calm down first. Everything else would only create further damage.

Given the circumstances the small one was probably starving, so the medic took an energon stick out of subspace and after a moment bit off a small piece, fighting against the urge to purge. It was just a field ration and served its purpose, but that was all of it. They always tasted old and like they had been buried underground for too long, left aside that he just didn't like solid energon. It was so ... solid.

It was worth it anyway. Ratchet's audio sensors picked up shuffling noises from his right side; the youngling must be considering coming out ... but then he heard something else. The sound of distant shots, omnipresent these days, but these were closer, too close for his likening and if he wasn't becoming paranoid already they were growing louder, too.

As much as he would have liked to spare it them both, it seemed he had no time for the slow and sensitive way and he prayed to Primus that he wasn't about to cause more damage than he could repair afterwards.

"I know you are there, little one."

As to be expected the next moment a blur of mainly red darted out from under the only berth and headed for the door, but since Ratchet actually _had_ expected just that he was ready and caught the youngling in his arms.

The little one fought with surprisingly strength, hitting, kicking, biting, but the medic didn't let go, following the protocol about how to handle panicking patients: calming through the creation of a safe surrounding by words and presence, added with a side note to just let the patients exhaust themselves if possible. That was the official version of course. Actually it meant "Hold them down 'till the sedatives work". Too bad that he had none here, but he wouldn't have known what doses was secure for such a young system, left aside he refused to use this method when he could help it anyway, although it made his job much more difficult. He wasn't good at this calming stuff and his natural grumpiness was not exactly of help either, but that didn't mean he wasn't able to handle such a situation and it didn't take long until the lack of food and proper recharge showed their effects and the struggling wore down.

The vents of the orphanage hitched, telling from the huge amount of stress he was under and Ratchet repeated words he hoped were of any comfort a few times more before he offered the field ration.

The youngling eyed it suspiciously and slowly reached for the stick before suddenly grabbing and wolfing it down. Seeing how low his energy levels were Ratchet offered a second ration, which vanished just as fast, without any comment, and suddenly he found himself with short arms around his neck and a weeping youngling pressed against his chest compartments.

Oh, that was not good. Protocol went only so far and he hadn't have to deal with younglings in ... actually he had _never_ needed to deal with younglings at all and he couldn't even draw on the memory how his own creators had handled him in comparable situations, but he should be damned if he just gave up and he wasn't commanding medical officer of the Autobot army for no reason. Every good medic had to be able to improvise, especially in times of war, and he couldn't remember peaceful times either.

Either way he had to come up with something fast, because now he also could hear the engineering of seekers over the sound of shooting guns.

"What's your designation, little one?"

"F First Aid" the youngling hiccupped hesitating, his grip becoming stronger.

"Well, nice to meet you, First Aid. I'm called Ratchet.

We need to go now. It's not safe here and I can't do anything for your creators anymore, do you understand that?"

The youngling nodded slowly, tears still running down his face.

"Have you anything you want to take with you?" Ratchet asked further, standing up slowly. First Aid reached in the direction of the berth, his blanket to be exactly, afraid to let go of his new protector, but not willing to leave without it either. The medic got the fabric and gave it to his charge. Then he waited to be led to another thing, but nothing alike happened. Instead the little one just wrapped his blanket around himself and hid under it from the world.

"Nothing else?"

The youngling shook his head and pressed closer to Ratchet's chest, finding comfort in the steady and strong sparkbeat he could hear under the plating.

The medic took one more looked around, but found nothing that could be of any use except for a hologram pad with the picture of a happy couple holding what appeared to have been First Aid within his first vorn. He subspaced it and left first the flat and then the building without a second glace back.

One the street however he eyed every shadow suspiciously and pressed the buddle in his arms closer to his body before he started to move with increasing tempo in the opposite direction from where he heard the shots before heading for the Autobot-base he currently was stationed at, which actually could be considered headquarters since that young mech entitled Prime also was resident there, but it wasn't as if he cared about that.

*~*~*

After two joors of walking fast through what once must have been a big an lively city, a threat to rebuild the alt-modes of the guards at the entrance into something really humiliating next time they landed on his repair tables– which was very likely to happen sooner than any party involved would like to – and sneaking his way through some hallways Ratchet relaxed in the safety of his med bay. The last thing he wanted expose the youngling to was a horde of officers debating in front of him if his presence was acceptable or not. A brief check up, eventually repairs, real energon and lots of recharge, that's what the youngling needed and he felt it his duty to see to that personally.

First Aid let him proceed without much hesitation, giving Ratchet a vague idea about the possible profession of his creators, although the medic didn't ask for verification. He wasn't that tactless and had enough to do with the repairing job anyway. It wasn't much more than ordinary maintenance, but he wasn't used to work on someone that small. Even that new guy of the special ops, Jazz was his designation if he remembered correctly, wasn't exactly the biggest mech around either, but in comparison to a youngling still considerable huge.

"I knew it. When our med-bot sneaks around, he has ta be up ta somethin'."

That would probably fall under the saying "speaking of the Unmaker" and Ratchet made a mental note to double check for the presence of the visored mech in the future, but first he would have to give him credit for his fast reactions. Hearing the spy First Aid had tried to run away instantly, but Jazz had caught him just before the youngling could leave the room.

It seemed his first impression, that the special ops recently were desperate enough to take anyone in who was half willing (and/or suicidal) had been a bit rash, although they still stood low in his grace for accepting a mech who had apparently only recently gone through his final upgrade.

"Now now, no need ta be so jumpy, li'le one, ol' Jazz ain't gonna do ya no harm. I bet if ah tell this Prime Prowler is goin' ta frizz his battle-computer for good."

"You wouldn't _dare_."

"Tell Prime or frizz Prowler's circuits?" Jazz retorted cheerfully and set a really confused First Aid back onto one of the repair tables.

"Neither, if you like your limps where they are."

"Aw, I luv ya, too, Ratch. Who would believe me tha ol' Hatchet brought a youngling in anyway?"

Instead of answering Ratchet just picked up a wrench and threw it at the other, introducing him to a major headache as it hit his cranial unit point black. The young mech fled, fearing more where that came from.

Ratchet picked up his wrench and weighed the tool in his servo. That was an interesting reaction. He had already tried it with asking more or less friendly, swearing and threatening, but still those idiots continued coming to his med bay because of stupidity and a shocking lack of survival instincts – not that there was much difference in that – but it seemed like he finally found a way to place the fear of Primus in them and teach them to take more care of themselves, even if only for the sole reason not to have to face him afterwards.

Oh yes, they would _hate_ Jazz for giving him the idea, he would make sure of that. The price of that was his chance of talking the monochrome mech into keeping mute about First Aid's presence, but on the long run it probably was worth it. Now all he had to do was to keep practicing, what shouldn't be too difficult considering that for a reason he had yet to figure out most Autobots were either dump as a post or simply lunatics, most of them at least.

"Him bad?"

"No, just cursed with the worst timing I've ever seen" the medic replied hoping First Aid's grammatical mistakes were due to his age and tiredness and not signs of a serious trauma ... the youngling must have anyway. Slag. Why did the bad orns always tend to get worse with every passing breem?

"But him tell and that bad?"

"Probably. Let's get you somewhere less likely to get crowded, okay?"

The youngling nodded and happily vanished under his blanket and pressed against his new caretaker.

Ratchet adjusted his hold and then left for his shared quarters, avoiding effectively everyone until he had his young charge safe behind locked doors, and then he started to walk, not half run half sneak, just walked around between the three berths and rocked First Aid into recharge until the door was opened again.

"Since this is basically your fault, Wheeljack, I recommend you don't even _think_ about saying anything."

Knowing his friend and roommate for a long time already Wheeljack knew better than to ignore Ratchet's words, although he considered himself not as deep in trouble as one would believe he should, since if wouldn't have given a warning then.

Still, seeing the other with a half recharging youngling in his arms made the engineer wonder if he really _did_ know Ratchet. Maybe the medic had finally acted after one of his numerous threads and messed with his CPU when he had been in the med bay last time ... yesterday ... twice ... yes, that seemed to be entirely possibly if it wouldn't have been for the fact that even on his worst orns the medic would never abuse his position like that, no matter how often he said he would.

"I swear to Primus, if you ever suggest I should test one of your inventions again, I'll give agony a new definition just for you. I expected this stupid device to malfunction, but why in the name of all that is holy did this thing led me to him instead back here?"

"So I'm not imagining ..."

CLANG!

Sobering Ratchet made a mental note to always keep this wrench close by. One tool and two downed mechs couldn't be coincidence and the sound of it colliding with a head was a very satisfying indication that he brought his point across.

Oh yes, his life would become much more enjoyable from now on.

"Guessing from the look in your optics I'll soon be known as the mech who challenged fate one time too often and brought misery upon us all. What will you call it? Throwing arm of doom?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Jack. And, by the way, this little discovery is solely to be blamed on Jazz."

"Who?"

"That visored annoyance the special ops took in the other orn, and for Primus sake take that mask off. You know the rules.

"But ..." Wheeljack tried to argue as he always did, but was interrupted by a – as he now had to recognises – more irritated than aggravated medic.

"We had this discussion far too often already, Jack. We accept it out there, but in here you take it off. No secrets; that was the deal, and don't even start to argue with First Aid being here. He has definitely seen worse and is well into recharge anyway."

The inventor sighed and reluctantly took of the mask covering the lower half of his face. Its original purpose was the protection of his intakes from toxic and/or acid gases. In his profession he really needed such a thing – especially since he tended to accidentally blow up some of his inventions from time to time – but he had learned that the hard way and due to the war resources were already strained, too strained in his opinion to bother with something as minor as cosmetically damage when the mask covered them just as good. His current roommates and long time friends had accepted that at one point, although in their opinion there was no need to hide the scars, but they insisted that he at least didn't hid his face from them in private and by now it was only habit that made him try to convince them otherwise.

Wheeljack studied the CMO, how he paced in their small quarter – small at least for three grown mechs – from time to time stopping at his berth, obvious considering to lay the youngling, First Aid, down, but then kept him in his arms and paced again, optics darting to the door time and time again as if exception someone or something.

Recognising where this would eventually lead to the inventor sighed again.

"Ratchet, you know we can't keep him. This is a military base in the middle of a war; it's far too dangerous and Prime will never allow it."

"Do you think I don't know that myself? I couldn't just leave him there, Jack, I couldn't. It was ... it was horrible and I don't take orders from a ... a _Primeling_!"

Wheeljack snored. Since Sentinel had perished and a mech designated Optimus had been made Prime Ratchet had yet to miss an opportunity to voice his frustration about receiving orders from "someone barley out of their youngling vorns", but "Primeling" was a new and admittedly hilarious title.

"You know, Prime is actually not _that_ much younger than we are, just a bit inexperienced, but I believe that Sentinel knew what he did and so did the matrix. By the way, Sentinel would have had your skid plates for bringing the little one here already."

"But Sentinel is no more" the medic retorted, unwilling to talk about the previous Prime, and again Wheeljack was left to sigh about the other's stubbornness.

"That bad, huh?

"Worse."

In that moment the door opened and a red and blue mech, a bit younger than the two others and armed with three energon cubes, entered.

Surprised he froze in his motion and observed the situation.

Ignoring the fact that the inventor's first reaction was to cover his face he spotted Wheeljack sitting at his desk, various disc laying around everywhere which meant he had been planning a new something, but right now he wasn't paying them any attention, which further meant he was occupied with something more interesting and/or important.

In this case that something was actually a someone, namely Ratchet, who was, judging from his frozen-in-mid-pacing-position, rather aggravated. The mech by the designation Preceptor also noticed how the CMO's hold on something in his arms instantly tightened. He couldn't be sure what it was, but since it was wrapped in a dirty blanket he was sure to have a pretty good idea and knowing that the medic had been out testing one of Wheeljack's knickknacks he got a rather livid image of what was going on.

Preparing himself for what was bound to happen Perceptor locked the door and changed the access-code in a habitual movement.

"Wheeljack, take the mask off; Ratchet, stop pacing, you know it will only make your mood worse, and you have both again forgotten to get your energon, so drink this now. You can continue arguing afterwards."

"We didn't argue. I just reminded Ratch that we can't keep the little one."

"I won't bring First Aid back there nor will I let anyone else do it!" the medic replied, accepted the cube and downed two third of its content, saving the rest for First Aid.

"Nobody asks you to, but he can't stay here either. It's too dangerous."

"And of course he is much safer out there on his own. Did I miss the end of this stupid war or anything?"

Everyone else would have stopped listening at this point, but, as strange as it might sound for outsiders – especially considering his usually pacifistic nature – Perceptor actually enjoyed watching his friends and roommates argue from time to time. It was never with ill intend, even if it sometimes sounded like it was, but it was what made their relationship work. They could view problems from three different perspectives and when two argued the third – most times Perceptor – told them afterwards who had the better arguments. Usually Ratchet was the voice of reason, keeping Wheeljack's imagination from running wild, so having the tables turned would have been highly entertaining, but in this case there weren't much more points to make. They couldn't just kick the little one out and finding someone who wasn't directly involved in this war and willing – not to mention able – to take care of a youngling would prove to be extremely difficult, but they couldn't just keep First Aid either. A youngling wasn't like a stray cyber-cub or anything, You couldn't just bring them home and keep them, but it seemed this was exactly what Ratchet indented to do, even if the medic probably didn't knew that himself yet, and he was after all the dominant-stubborn one in their all together stubborn trio.

Woken from the loud voices First Aid peered from under his blanket. He took in the two strangers and the new location with unease, but since he was still in his new caretaker's arms and he spotted three recharge berths he guessed it must be alright, so he focused on the running argument.

It worried him, to say the least. "Military base", "dangerous" and "can't stay" weren't exactly reassuring words for a young orphanage, but Ratchet seemed unwilling to give him away again so he probably wouldn't need to worry about that all too much.

Someone knocked and in no time First Aid vanished under the next berth.

"_Ratchet, I know you are in there."_

"Of course I am. My shift doesn't start for another five joors and I won't come out here any sooner unless there is an emergency and since Wheeljack is in here, too, an emergency is very unlike to happen."

"Hey!" Wheeljack protested, but was ignored. Instead Ratchet got down on his knees and tried to lure the youngling out from under the berth again. He definitely would have to work on that with the little one; after all wouldn't he fit under there for the rest of his function-circle.

"_Don't make me order you, Ratchet. And bring the youngling with you."_

"I was elbow-joint deep in your chassis four orns ago and ordered you to stay down for five, so either you ignored medical orders, for which technically you would need to throw yourself into the brig as soon as I give you the all clear, or you're off duty unless there is a case of emergency, so higher officer or not you can't order me to do _anything_" the CMO replied smug. Prowl's battle computer might be superior to everyone else's, but that also meant he couldn't deny flawless logic and right now Ratchet was plain right.

"_Then I __have to let Prime know about this."_

"Too bad I don't give a slag if you do. And tell Jazz if he dares to end up on my tables again anytime soon I will personally rebuild him into something entirely new and _boring_."

"Who is Jazz?" Perceptor whispered, intrigued.

"Newbie of the Special Ops."

"_You brought this upon __yourself."_

"Didn't you want to go and tell Prime?" Ratchet replied annoyed and finally the second in command went away, which led to First Aid slowly returning into Ratchet's arms.

"Problems?"

"Nothing I can't handle."

"But it's my fault?"

"Absolutely _nothing_ of this is your fault, Aid, and never ever let anyone tell you otherwise, okay?"

First Aid smiled shyly and hugged the bigger mech as good as he could. Ratchet sighed, petting the small head. Usually he didn't like to be hugged, or touched in general. His profession made him very tactile and ... well, he just wasn't comfortable with it usually, but he wouldn't exactly mind getting used to this.

"First Aid, meet Wheeljack and Perceptor."

The youngling eyed the introduced mechs slightly suspicious, but then smiled again and waved shortly.

"Hi" he simply said and the medic found himself thinking that, when the little one did the same thing with Prowl and Optimus, maybe he wouldn't get any problems at all.

Of course thoughts like that used to speed up think a bit too much. The CMO had barley convinced First Aid that Wheeljack and Perceptor were indeed friendly and to be trusted, when Prime knocked and informed them that he didn't wish to pull rank, but would prefer this situation, given it was true what he had heard about Ratchet hiding a youngling, to be dealt with faceplate to faceplate, not faceplate to door.

Preparing for a lecture about the treatment of superiors Ratchet grumpily submitted to the chain of command and unlocked the door, opening it only when Wheeljack had put his mask back in place, but Prime didn't yell or anything, just starred surprised at the youngling in his CMO's arms before politely although still irritated requesting an explanation. It would after all not serve the purpose to piss off their best medic – not to mention that he had seen the dent in Jazz' head and wasn't too keen on getting to know firsthand how exactly it had gotten there.

He listened attentive to what Ratchet revealed of the circumstances that lead to the discovery of First Aid, decided to ignore that actually no one had given the medic permission to leave base in the first place and tried read between the lines in what situation the medic had really found the youngling without him actually saying it.

Now Optimus Prime wasn't a sparkles mech. Of course the fate of little First Aid touched him and he would have gladly done everything in his power to help the youngling, but he wasn't just Optimus anymore, he was _Prime_. He held the responsibility for the whole Autobot army and had to view the big picture not matter if he liked it or not. A youngling was a responsibility that needed time and nourishment and they were notoriously short on both. It honoured Ratchet that he wanted to care for the little one and of course Prime wouldn't just kick him out and be done with it, but they needed to find someone else to do the job, preferable as fast as possible. This was a military base after all and that was exactly what Optimus Prime told Ratchet, or rather tried. He got maybe half through before the alarm sounded and he was informed via com that a patrol had had a run in with Decepticons and requested back up.

"This discussion isn't finished yet" he told Ratchet and hurried away to deal with the situation.

"You can bet it isn't" the medic replied, handing First Aid to Perceptor and went to prepare the med bay.

*~*~*

Several joors later Ratchet was more than ready to just take Wheeljack, Perceptor and First Aid and just leave Cybertron. Sure, it was good to know their new Prime considered himself part of the Autobots – not just as commander, but also as warrior – but from Ratchet's point of view that meant just another body to repair and he definitely hadn't planned to continue their discussion when he was tired and more cranky than usually and reattaching the lower half of Prime's arm. Wheeljack wasn't exactly a great help either.

To make it worse Perceptor entered with the youngling in question just when he was about to reconnect the last wires of Prime's arm.

"Sorry, Ratch, but I didn't know what else to do to reassure him that you are fine" the scientists said and had to set First Aid down, because the youngling struggled so much he would have dropped him otherwise. Within an astrosecond the mechling was at his chosen caretaker's legs and clinked to them for dear life and Ratchet had to realise that First Aid had already imprinted on him. It was unusual for his age in general, not just considering the short time period it had taken, but not really surprising given the circumstances. It warmed Ratchet's spark, more so even because it put the running discussion with Prime to a permanent end and with hidden glee he told his superior just that.

"But ..."

"No buts. It's as simple as that: I will go where the little one goes and there is nothing you can do about that. And I swear: if you dare to send the little one away, Primus may help you after the next Decepticon attack, because I definitely won't!"

"And where Ratchet goes I will follow, that much is sure" Wheeljack sighed and gave up pretending to clean the tools he had used earlier to help Ratchet.

"So do I, but first I will drag you back in our room before you fall over in exhaustion" Perceptor added and started to act after his words. Knowing the other was right the medic and the inventor let him do as he pleased, as soon as Ratchet had picked up First Aid, and left a rather dumb looking Prime behind.

"He is going to kick us out as soon as he rebooted his processors."

"I want to see him try with just one arm."

"With just one ... you didn't ... you _did_."

"He is perfectly alright. He just won't be able to move it."

Perceptor and Wheeljack starred at their friend and his smug expression in disbelieve.

"You" the inventor declared seriously "are an _evil_ mech."

*~*~*~*~*

Eager to learn what his caretaker did First Aid accepted the datapad and vanished into a corner of the med bay so he wouldn't be in the way. Of course, he could study in their shared quarters, but he would have to come all the way here every time he had a question and considering the potential danger it represented Wheeljack's lab was as forbidden for him to seek out as was the shooting range – not that he would have wanted to enter the latter in the first place.

Perceptor's lab was save, but as much as he loved his third caretaker he had learned fast that when he asked the scientist for help he would be more confused afterwards than before.

"You learn fast; your creators would be proud."

"Are you proud?"

"You can slagging bet I am. Jack and Percy, too."

"That's all that matters."

Ratchet starred at the youngling, only that First Aid wouldn't be a youngling for much longer anymore. He had grown in the past vorns and matured. His determination to be of help and general friendliness had convinced most Autobots that it wasn't actually so bad to have a youngling around, but even if it hadn't it wouldn't have mattered at all to the grumpy medic as long as his adopted creation could smile honestly when saying those words.

"You're a good kid, Aid."

"Of course I am. You raised me."

"Watch it or I may get suspicious what you ..."

"_RATCHET!"_

The medic glared at First Aid again, asking without words if the youngling knew what this tumult was about.

"I didn't do anything, I swear."

"I know" the CMO replied honestly, because actually First Aid _never_ did anything, before Ironhide stopped into his med bay, swearing to the full ability of his processors, only to be floored by barley aimed, but still point black hitting wrench.

Only then did Ratchet notice the two younglings hanging from the servos of the other.

**TBC**


	2. Hot Rod, Arcee and Blur

**Author Comment:**

SURPRISE!

No, I haven't forgotten about this fic. In fact, I've for the longest time tried to continue it, but I couldn't get past the first 50 words or so of this chapter and you can believe me it drove me nuts, but a few days ago I suddenly knew what to do. The result is a lot shorter than the last chapter, but hey, it's done and that's all that counts, right?

Anyway. This chapter is set about 7 – 8 vorns after Ratchet found First Aid. Hot Rod and Blur are just a bit younger than First Aid, maybe a vorn or so, and Arcee is about half their age.

And last but not least a thing or two about Cybertronians:

Breem - 8.3 Earth minutes

Joor - About 6.5 Earth hours

Orn - About 13 Earth days

Vorn - About 83 Earth years

Sparkling – Newborn (about 2 vorns max. until they start to walk and talk)

Youngling – Child (following 8 – 10 vorns)

These numbers are put in by me. They are not official or anything; I just needed something for orientation, which brings me to another word creation of mine for something often used, but never given a name as far as I know:

"Shiver vorns" – max. first 5 vorns of younglinghood (so until their 7th vorn after being created), when they still need to be monitored constantly and carried around much, since they can't control their own body heat and grow cold fast and also tired. They are also referred to as "Blanket vorns", which is meant very literally. It's a common tradition (and a necessaries) that the creators give as a first present a blanket to the new sparked being, so he or she won't grow cold, but some Transformers stay with that habit their whole life.

*~*~*~*~*

If asked Hot Rod would always admit that he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed and that his memories were incomplete at best, but even he knew that listening to strangers, especially that kind that hid in the shadows, and the pink femmling dragging him through the empty, but never truly abandoned streets of a strange city, should know that, too. After all was she the one claiming to be smarter. Granted, what the stranger had told them about their destination– a safe place to recharge and energon for free – sounded good, but that was part of the problem: it sounded _too_ good to be true.

And where in the name of all that was good and holy did Arcee take the energy from to drag her older and thus also heavier brother at such a speed anyway? They had been on road for orns after all.

Suddenly the femmling stopped and glared at the other youngling.

"Are you going to get your gears in motion anytime soon or do I need to carry you?"

"RC, have you damaged your processors or anything? We can't just go there just because someone said so and aren't you the one complaining I wouldn't think enough? Well, I am thinking now and I think it is stupid to do what a stranger said and even more stupid to go to the Autobots."

"Why? Because it's safe there and they have energon?"

"How about: because they are soldiers and we just younglings? Why should they help us?"

"Because they did before."

"Said that strange mech" Hot Rod countered, but Arcee knew very well what buttons to push to get her will.

"Aw, is big, bad Roddy scared?"

"I'm not scared! Primus below, do what you want, but don't come crying to me when all goes to the Pit again" the red and orange mechling snapped back and marched ahead. This just couldn't work, wouldn't. From what he had heard the Autobots were really nicer than the Decepticons, but Hot Rod was long past the point of believing that there was a situation when it "couldn't get worse". The only good thing that ever happened to him was when he found this livid femmling calling herself Arcee and right now he started to doubt that had done him any good either.

"Good, because we're already there."

The mechling turned around in bewilderment.

"Where?"

"The entrance."

" ... Even risking to repeat myself: where?"

The pink femmling pushed aside some debris and pointed at the exposed duct.

"That is a _hole_, not an entrance."

"Say, don't you ever listen when people tell you something? He told us about the vent system."

"The strange mech that wouldn't even show himself and thus _had_ to tell the truth."

Tired of this argument the younger just climbed into the duct, Hot Rod right behind her, still complaining, but that how he was. Always talking big, but still also always watching out for her. That was after all why Arcee had decided to keep him around. Granted, it had actually been a mutual decision, but the right one in her opinion. It was easier to survive together and Hot Rod was loyal and fun.

"Arcee?"

"What now?"

"I was just thinking: we are crawling though the ventilation system, right?"

"And I started to fear you really got your processor damaged."

"Yeah, just keep on making fun of me" the mechling replied snappish. "But at least _I_ know that ducts like this are _not_ made to carry our combined weight."

The femmling froze and true to form the duct cracked and ground gave in under them a moment later just a moment later. The fall wasn't far, but the landing still hurt like Pit.

"I knew this was a bad idea."

"Grate, and you couldn't mention that, like, two breems earlier?" Arcee snapped back and tried to get out of the scrapheap they had fallen onto, only to discover that said scrapheap was actually alive.

"What the ... ?"

"RUN" the older youngling screamed, grabbed the femmling and did just that. Where to didn't matter, any place was good as long as it wasn't here, but just when he spotted a door Hot Rod was scoped up by his scuff bar and separated from his adopted sister.

With horror the younglings starred at their mean looking capturer. The red mech carried them Primus knew where to, cursing and screaming for a ratchet. Hot Rod couldn't imagine what he could possible want with that thing, but it just had to be painful. It had always been like this, or at least during the times he still could remember.

At this point Hot Rod was sure he had seen it all and so had Arcee; several orphans, "families" and workstations. Some places had been bearable at least, most not. He had seen younglings like them or younger used in ways that were beyond words. Some had been crushed between debris when forced to search for anything valuable, others simply faded away. Sometimes he remembered a time when it hadn't been like that, when there had been someone holding him close and with care. It wasn't more than a brief impression, but at least he knew that long ago he had been loved once. Arcee didn't even have that comfort, but somehow she still had managed to keep her spirits up. How he didn't know and never asked.

Apparently they had reached whatever destination the red mech had in mind, because his swearing became even worse and suddenly they were under attack and things got really chaotic. There were lots of red and white and curses and then a small servo. He had Arcee, or she had him, it didn't matter to Hot Rod right now. What mattered was that they got away so the next door was his and finally it became a bit calmer.

"Great, Roddy, a dead end."

The mechling looked around and had to admit she was right. This had to be an office of some sort and had only one door, the one they had come through.

"Hey, at least we got away from these lunatics."

"One of those lunatics happens to be my mentor, so you'd be better advised to not insult him."

The younglings spun around. They hadn't noticed someone had followed them, not to mention a third youngling with red torso and white legs and arms, that were currently crossed over his chest plates, optic ridges pulled in frown.

"Who are you?"

"First Aid. How did you get in here?"

"Vent system."

"Really? That would explain why Ironhide said you fell on him."

"Ironhide? Yeah, that name certainly fits" Arcee mused, pushing away Hot Rod's arm.

The sudden silence prevented any answer First Aid might have given.

"It certainly never gets boring here" the older mechling commended sighing and left to look what had happened now. Seeing their chance to escape this place again the siblings-by-choice followed the other and wearily watched the scene. The red mech called Ironhide was currently holding a forth youngling, mainly blue and quite familiar, at least to Hot Rod.

"Hey, thereyouare. IalreadythoughtIlostyou. Youtwoarereallyhardtofollow, youknow. Bytheway, I'm Blur."

"What did he say?"

"I'mBlurr" the youngling repeated, obviously used to this and just as annoyed about it and then pointed at Hot Rod and Arcee.

"Ifollowedthem."

"Why?"

Blur shrugged.

"Well, Iwashungryandyoulookedasifyouknewwhereyou'regoing."

The younglings and adults needed a moment to deceiver the words, then the white mech nodded and turned to the other two.

"And what is your excuse?"

"Hunger" Hot Rod replied before Arcee could. There were things you didn't tell potential allies and a stranger that pointed you the way to the Autobot base was one of the things."We found the vent by chance and thought maybe there would be some energon at the other end of it. Can we have some, please?"

It was obviously that no one really believed him, but strangely enough no one said anything about it either. Instead First Aid pushed them to his mentor, saying something about getting the energon and left.

The white mech gave them a once over and after declaring them fine enough left them with Ironhide under the pretext to inform the Prime.

The younglings looked at each other, the two parties realising fast and without words that they had much in common. They were orphans and used to be reached around and disappointed. Hot Rod reached out his servo and Blur took it grinning, wordlessly accepting the offer to join the other mechling and his sister. He, too, knew that the more they were the higher were their chances to survive, and he was fed up with travelling alone, although he was much faster then.

"Primus frag it, what am I supposed to do with you now?" Ironhide complained, holding Arcee before his optics, strange fascinated with the femmling.

"Hug us?" she suggested grinning, having decided for one reason or the other to annoy the mech until he either started to like her or ... well, or the opposite. Needles to say that tactic usually resulted in them having to run for their lives.

"Hn. You're a strange one, sparklet."

"I'm not a sparklet, old mech. I'm Arcee and you better remember that one."

"You really got some guts to talk with me like that. I should just kick you out and be done with it."

"I wanna see you try, old-timer."

The mechlings bleached shocked, but Ironhide took no offence. In the contrary, he started to laugh.

"You are really something, little one. Bet Chromia will like you."

"Who's Chromia?"

"Eh, who is Chromia she asks. My bondmate, that's who, and one Pit of a femme, I tell you."

The younglings exchanged short glazes. Neither was sure what a "bondmate" was supposed to be, but guessing from the way the mech said it, it couldn't be that bad.

"So, we can stay?"

"What?!"

"If Chromia likes me, she will keep me and I only go where they go."

Ironhide starred at the smugly grinning femmling, as did Blur and Hot Rod. Arcee, they decided, had to be completely and utterly crazy.

" ... Oh frag it, Prime won't like that."

*~*~*

In that point Ironhide was right: the Prime really didn't like to find him with three younglings that looked far too comfortable in his grip even under his stern glare, well, one at least. The others were more than just nervous and really glad when First Aid returned with energon and they could retreat into a corner and shut out most of the discussion.

"And you really followed us? Why?" Hot Rod asked when First Aid had left them to help someone called Perceptor.

"ActuallyIranintothisstrangemechthatsaidyou'dknowwheretofindenergonandasafeplacetorecharge. Soundedabittoogoodtobetrue, butIthought: hey, it'sasgoodahintasany."

"Must have been the same one sending us here. I wonder who that is."

"Does it really matter? So, you gonna stick with us now?"

"Well, I'mkindasickofrunningaroundalone. Imean, I'mmuchfasteralone, butthatgetsreallylonelyreallyfast, aboutasfastasIrun."

"So you can run as fast as you talk?" Arcee asked. Once used to his speed it wasn't actually that hard to understand him.

"Faster" Blur grinned over his energon. Then they started to exchange experiences and had to discover that they really had as much in common as they had thought. They also had to agree that so far this place was better than any other they had been so far. No beatings so far, they had not been put to any kind of work of yet and the energon actually didn't have this foul aftertaste like as in most places and if things turned out bad for them they still could just leave again, of course only if they weren't kicked out before.

Well, that that wouldn't happened anytime soon became apparent when that Chromia Ironhide had mentioned come looking for her bondmate and true to his prediction took an instant likening to not only Arcee, but also her brothers.

"We're gonna keep them" she decided with a tone that allowed no protest, although that didn't stop some from trying, surprising adults and younglings alike.

"Chromia, with all respect ..."

"You allowed Ratchet to keep First Aid and it turned out to have been the right decision. They need a place to stay and since then it hasn't become any nicer out there."

The Prime again tried to say something, but the femme didn't let him.

"Let's shorten that up: We keep them or I'll go with them. Ironhide?"

"But ..."

"Do you want to recharge alone?"

Hot Rod could only feel sympathy with the red mech in that moment. Arcee was exactly like Chromia when she wanted something and both were equally successful.

"Sorry, Prime, but you can't expect me to go against my own bondmate."

"No, I obviously I can't."

"This is a mad house" a black and white mech with door wings groaned, but another, smaller black and white mech added that they may be mad, but at least it never got boring and the younglings had to agree. The people around here were most definitely the strangest they had met so far, but for what it was worth: this seemed like a good place to stay.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"You know, it's hardly the drone's fault old Hide still treats you like a sparkling" Hot Rod pointed out, watching Arcee make full use of her not just recently installed final upgrades and take out one drone after the other. Given the glare he got in return even he started to wonder for the nth time is she wasn't really Ironhide's and Chromia's creation in the end. The bonded pair fretted over all three of them equally and it surely was partly because of their influence that they now passionately worked and fought for Optimus Prime, but it was the femme it had had the most impact on.

"He should get his head out of his fragging aft! I'm big enough to take care of myself and he fragging knows I'm as good a warrior as the next mech."

Another drone went down.

"Youknowhejustcaresalotaboutus. Orderingyoutostaybackisthemostdemonstrativehecanget."

"And why is it only me who has to stay behind? I'm fast, I'm strong and I have a better aim than both of you combined" the femme complained, proving her words with a seemingly not aimed but still point black hitting shot. Primus be blessed that she had never taken to medical lessons well. Ratchet was already hunting their nightmares, but Arcee with a wrench ... what a horrible image.

"Well, you _are_ the youngest."

That was obviously not what the pink sharpshooter had wanted to hear. The next drone died a horrible death, but then she suddenly stopped the battle simulation and looked at her elder brothers, calm and serious.

"Say, Roddy, is this how creators are supposed to be, like Chromia and Hide?"

"How should I know?"

"Well, youaretheonlyoneofusrememberingyours, soyoushouldinfactknow."

"I remember a short moment when I was hold. That hardly counts" Hot Rod replied offended. He didn't like to talk about that especially since he had come to like their caretakers very much. It just didn't seem fair to compare them.

"I say it doesn't matter. They care for us, honestly care like no one ever had before and my memory isn't as bad anymore as it was once. I'm just glad we came here."

"I didn't mean it like that and you know it. I just wonder, that's all."

She sat down between Blur and Hot Rod, pulling one arm from each around her waist and put hers around their shoulders. Since her upgrades the mechs had become a bit hesitatingly when it came to physical contact. She could see why, to others it had to look as if they were together, but she didn't care what they thought. She was their sister first and as such had the right to be hugged by them, the same right they had to recharge together and/or in the room of their caretakers when the nightmares from before they came here became too much. Everything else was no one's but their business.

"I'dliketoknowwhothatmechwasthatleadushere. I'dliketothankhim. Thiswasthebestthingthateverhappenedtome."

The other two nodded, but neither had a clue about the identity of their benefactor, so it would probably forever remain a mystery, but more than anything they were grateful for this. They were together, happy and safe, that was more than anything they ever had.

"Primus, I just _love _this family" Arcee grinned, pulling the other two closer, but then a strangely familiar cracking sound interrupted them. The siblings-by-choice-and-circumstances needed a moment to recognise it, but then they realised that someone had to be crawling though the ventilation system.

**TBC**


	3. Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and Bluestreak

Yay, last chapter, finally. I already thought I'd never get this done.

I fear it's a bit more centred on Prowl and Jazz than on the twins and Blue isn't getting much airtime at all, except that he is present most of the time, but well.

XXXXXX

Although they had quite some experience with younglings by now and they figured that especially in these times there was no such thing as "normal" younglings, this was definitely overkill.

It wasn't so much the little mechling sneaking through their vent system and trying to steal their energon, as the slightly older twin brothers that suddenly ran havoc in the base shortly after the Autobots had gotten a hold on the first. Twins were very rare – except when it concerned the creations of spilt-sparks, but they were special in regard to many things anyway – and that they worked differently was a given, but the actual problem was how much trouble those two were before they finally managed to catch them and even then they wouldn't stop trashing and cursing. It put even Ratchet to shame, really.

It took the Autobots a whole joor to just find out that the twins believed their younger friend and just wanted to rescue him and another two to convince them partly that they didn't want to harm any of them. In this case "partially" meant that the youngest of the three, going by the name Bluestreak, and the red coloured twin, Sideswipe, were willing to listen when they were offered some energon, while the yellow twin, Sunstreaker, refused both. At least he stopped attacking everyone, but that might be just because everybody kept their distance for now and he didn't interrupt very loudly when Optimus Prime told them they were welcome to stay. Of course he said it with a lot more words, but the meaning remained the same and it served its purpose, hopefully.

"I don't like it here" Sunstreaker grumped, eying everyone suspiciously and pulling his twin and their friend closer. He didn't like adults, period and for good reasons.

"Maybe it's not so bad here" the red youngling tried to reason. "You know, out of the fire line, a roof over our heads, no more hunger ... we watched them. I don't think they are evil."

Again the yellow youngling grumped and turned away.

"No. We're leaving. We got by on our own before and we will in the future."

Prowl wanted to interfere – Sunstreaker's argument wasn't just illogically, it was dangerously illogical – but the grey mechling beat him to it.

"Sunny, I'm tired. Can't we just stay here for a bit, please? I really need a break and the energon is tasty. Try."

Frowning Sunstreaker took the cube and ended up drinking all of it. When Bluestreak leaned against him it wouldn't have needed the big, begging optics treatment to convince him. As the Autobots would learn with time, where the twins willing do everything for each other, but for Bluestreak thy would go beyond everything that could be put into words.

"Fine. I guess we can give it a try."

"Good, you're gonna live with us then."

"WHAT?"

In hindsight that probably wasn't the best thing to say, but in his defence: Prowl really didn't like surprises and Jazz knew that well enough to at least pretend to ask him beforehand, even if he would find ways to convince him afterwards.

"Oh, come on. It's gonna be fun."

The tactician had justified reasons to believe otherwise. They both had enough duties already and he just _knew_ that the younglings would cause trouble, not to mention that their private life was ... lacking, to say the least, for different reasons. The last part he didn't say out loud, but he wasn't above mentioning the first points.

"You're being pessimistic again, Prowler."

On orns like this the black and white didn't know why he even bothered and he really wasn't looking forward to that particular argument. He knew of course that Jazz meant well, but the other black and white had been acting odd for some time now and that had led to arguments, heavy arguments, in fact. Maybe with the younglings his mate would be able to work out whatever got him so on the edge, but Prowl had a feeling that this new development just _couldn't_ turn things in their favour.

Well, obviously he wouldn't be asked about his opinion on this anyway.

XXXX

Nobody wished as dearly as Prowl did that just this once he would be wrong when predicting the outcome of something, but it didn't help. It seemed that, unless they were recharging, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were pranking everything and everyone that didn't move fast enough. The only known exceptions to that rule were the Prime, Ratchet and Wheeljack, but that it was downright suicidal to annoy the Hatchet and even the Decepticons were weary of getting too close to the inventor. Well, and Prime was just Prime and nobody pranked the Prime.

At first it had actually helped, although "to tired/busy to argue" couldn't really count as "better", but then it had become even worse than before. Just yesterday Prime had asked if there was anything he could do, including the offer to give them a few orns off and watch the younglings, but Optimus had enough problems as it was and to ask him to "end this war" and "make the last vorn undone" weren't options either.

No, this was something between Jazz and him and usually he would keep it private and work things out, but now Prowl was at a breaking point. He couldn't keep fighting the Decepticons, the twins _and_ his mate at the same time. He just couldn't and actually was the tactician seriously considering to tell the other just that, again, and would move out of their shared quarters. Maybe he'd recharge in his office or somewhere else. As long as it wasn't in _that_ room he didn't really care anymore where. He needed some distance from all this and it shouldn't change too much. The favourite argument against their relationship of, well, _everyone_ was and had always been that he worked too much and was more dedicated to his job than his mate. Those accusations hurt the most, especially since it wasn't true, and why was it always his fault anyway? Jazz was also a workaholic half the time. He just happened to be able to spend most of that time outside his office and he often left for orns and hardly said goodbye. Why did nobody complain about that?

"Sunny, we have to tell them."

Prowl stopped in his tracks and thoughts and listened in the conversation of the worst troublemakers known to history. Everything that could give him a head start to whatever they planed now was mostly appreciated.

"No. They don't care. We'll deal with this on our own."

The black and white could only just so suppress a gasp, taking the comment as a personal insult. Against popular believe did care about all four of them, the twins, Bluestreak and of course Jazz, more than he could put in words. Without hesitation would he lay down his life in order to safe them, even now, when everything was spiralling to the Pits. He loved Jazz and, although especially Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were testing his patience and good will constantly, they could actually be quite charming, if they wanted to, and how they cared for Bluestreak was downright adorable. The SIC also suspected that their pranks and general disrespect towards elders was based on some serious trauma, but he had enough troubles without worrying about that, too, and the constant accusations ...

"But we _can't_ deal with it anymore, or did you find him anywhere?"

"We promised to protect him" Sunstreaker objected, although by far not as gruff anymore than before. "We would know if something bad happened to him. Now calm down, okay? We're going to find him."

And that was Prowl's clue to push his own problems aside and step out of his hiding place.

"Find whom?"

Shocked the younglings starred up to him, then Sideswipe got this determined look in his optics and despite his brothers struggling ran to the tactician.

"Blue is gone. We can't find him anywhere."

"And whose fault is that? They don't care, not about us and not about each other" Sunstreaker spat and pulled his brother away, but Prowl stopped them and crouched down on their optic level.

"Bluestreak is gone?"

"He probably ran away, because you were arguing all the time."

"We searched the whole base. He must have gone outside."

Prowl's face fell. The little mechling was gone and it was their, Jazz' and his, fault? Primus have mercy on them!

"Okay, listen, I know you don't trust me or any of us, but we have a better chance if you let me help. Get in."

"Okay" Sideswipe agreed before his brother could even try to interfere and dragged the yellow youngling along.

"Don't even start it, Sunny. I know you just want to protect us and you're doing a good job, always did, but we really need help now."

"Whatever."

It was probably the closest thing to agreeing Sunstreaker would ever voice and he did climb into the vehicle when Prowl transformed.

"Hold on tight and on the way you can tell me everything you can about Bluestreak."

"Why should we?"

"Because it won't be an easy ride and every information can help us to find him" Prowl explained and speeded out of the base. Squealing the mechlings first held onto each other, then anything that would prevent them from being thrown around.

"I can't wait to become old enough for an alt mode."

"Yeah, well, how about you try to survive long enough for that first?"

"If you start a fight inside me, I'll throw you out!"

"Then you won't be able to find Blue."

To say the tactician was surprised would have been an understatement.

"What do you mean?"

"Well" Sideswipe started, giving his twin a questioning glace, but the other only huffed. "We always know where the other is, because we're twins and all, but it's a bit more complicated with Blue. We can tell in which general direction he is and if he's alive. It's not much, but ... "

" ... but we won't tell you why."

"That I can live with. Then lead the way."

Again the red twin looked at his brother, but Sunstreaker had lost all interest in this conversation, so Sideswipe told Prowl in the right direction, while the yellow mechling just stared out at the city the three of them used to roam on the never ending search for energon and shelter. Sideswipe and he had been doing that for what felt like an eternity. No one had ever bothered to teach them any measurement of time before they had come to the Autobots and it was hard to get a gasp on how long they had done what, so it had been Sideswipe and him for one eternity and then they had found Bluestreak and lived with him for ... well, probably half an eternity.

The poor sparkling had been more dead than alive when they found him back then and until today neither twin could say why and what exactly they had done, only that they know could feel Bluestreak in their shared spark.

Over time they had developed a very balanced dynamic between the three of them. Sideswipe was responsible for most interaction with others, Bluestreak took care of the interaction between them and Sunstreaker protected them from about everything that came their way.

Considering the circumstances their life had been good and then Bluestreak found the entrance to the vent system of what turned out to be an Autobot base. At first it had been great, simply because it meant a comparably easy access to energon, but then his twin and their best friend/adopted brother had started to go on and on about what they had seen inside and then Bluestreak had been captured and suddenly Sunstreaker's protection wasn't enough anymore and their dynamic was gone, just like Bluestreak was know gone.

"Sunny, look."

Pulled out of his thoughts Sunstreaker did indeed look and gasped. He knew this place just as well as his twin did, because here they had found their third. What if Blue was in just as bad a condition now as he had been? Saving him the last time had almost killed all three of them, at least judging by how terrible they had felt afterwards. He was pretty sure a second time they really wouldn't survive.

"Stop, let us out."

Prowl did as told, then transformed and followed the twins, although they hardly noticed and kept ignoring him. They knew even before they entered the rundown building what they would find: Bluestreak curled together on a heap of wreckage under which they suspected lay someone very important to him and it was really how they found their brother.

One had to give the little one some credit, he had come pretty far in the short time, but all the twins cared about was that the other was found and considerable well. Now all they had to do was calm him down, which was actually the hardest part, but they were kind of used to it and didn't mind.

XXXX

By the time Jazz found the group Bluestreak had calmed down again and was sitting quietly between the twins and enjoyed their undivided attention. Prowl on the other hand was far from alright. He sat against a semi stable wall, a look of despair on his faceplates and streaks of energon leading from his optics to his chin.

"Prowler, am I glad to see you. I was worried when you just ran away like that and ..."

"I'm moving out."

The saboteur froze, shocked beyond words, and noticing the situation the three younglings watched them irritated and yet curious.

"What?"

"You can have our room; I'll bunk in my office until I find a better solution."

"But ... but _why_?"

"Are you that blind? All we do is argue, the whole orn, and that has been going on for at least a vorn already and now we obviously even scared Bluestreak so much that he ran away. I love you Jazz, I really do, but it's killing me and now it also endangers others. I just can't keep doing this anymore. Not to you, or them and not to me either."

One of Ratchet's infamous flying wrenches couldn't have done a better job in flooring the saboteur, but while the wrenches had the tendency to bring you to your knees and did actually hurt quite a bit this was definitely much worse.

"I really screwed this one up, didn't I?"

"It always takes at least two for a relationship and just as many to "screw it up", as you put it. It seems we just ... had different expectations, but for what's worth I really, really enjoyed our time together before this ... this whole mess."

"So did I, really, but none of this is your fault. Primus knows, if I had known that this would come from asking you to bond with me I would have just kept my trap shut."

Prowl couldn't do anything but stare in shock and Jazz had already Ratchet on com in fear of his mate – Primus, that one single word could hurt so much – having locked up his processor when the other spoke the one sentence he would have never expected.

"What are you talking about?"

"No, it's okay, Prowler. I really shouldn't have asked."

"Jazz, listen, you never asked me to bond with you, ever."

"What? No, yes, I asked you and then I woke up in med bay and you were upset, but otherwise acted as if nothing happened, so I figured you wanted me to prove I'm worth it. I obviously failed and made it even worse."

"No, I'm sure. I would remember that. When did you ask me?" Prowl requested excited, dreadful, hopeful and a whole lot of other things he couldn't have named even in any other situation that wasn't half as illogical and surreal as this. Judging from the other's expression Jazz went through the same.

"About a vorn ago, give or take a few orns, but ..."

A gesture from the tactician let him fall silent and give the now approaching younglings a closer once over while the other monochrome mech obviously ran his battle simulations.

"Hey, for what's worth it, we're sorry for causing so much trouble."

Jazz gave them a weary smile.

"Sorry, little buddy, but this is a really bad time for this, left aside that this one doesn't really have anything to do with you."

"Yeah, well, just saying. We talked about and we'll try to be less of a hazard from now on, just don't kick us out, alright?"

"Nah, we wouldn't have done that anyway. You surely had your reasons and all, just ... like I said: this is a really bad time for this."

Sideswipe nodded with a shrug and then settled with his brother to watch the whole thing become even more ridiculous, at least from their point of view, when Prowl finished thinking.

"Jazz, around the time span you named you were hurt badly. Ratchet wouldn't reveal the details to me, but it sounded very serious. I was upset, because I had been worried and you didn't even notify me that you had a mission to begin with, which you do quite often I want to add, but you most definitely didn't ask me to bond with you, ever."

Jazz' optics widened under his visor.

"You ... you mean I really never asked? That all that trying to be more responsible, more logical and in general more like someone you could agree to bond to because of a ... of a nightmare?"

The tactician shrugged helplessly.

"It ... it seems as if."

The two mechs kept starring at each other horrified, then Jazz broke down in hysterical laughter that obviously wouldn't end anytime soon, so Prowl called Ratchet and gave him the coordinates before he, too, became either hysterical like his mate or really just locked up.

There were reasons to freeze your processor and there were _reasons_ to freeze your processor and Jazz dreaming to ask him to bond being the reason for this mess definitely was the later.

"You guys are absolutely crazy."

"I fear that is a truth we had to accept long ago."

The younglings looked from one mech to the other and then at each other.

"Well" Bluestreak stated softly after a moment. "At least it won't get boring with them."

"Sunny, you're spacing out."

Sunstreaker grunted only in reply, then straightened and had a closer look around. Between them and the Decepticons everyone passing as youngling or sparkling was playing a game of tag and where their leaders had gone to wasn't clear, but judging by Jazz' smirk he actually didn't want to know.

Well, that or he was thinking about how to get Prowl away from here for a private moment and to be honest the yellow warrior favoured that thought over any other, simply because it meant that everything was okay between the mechs that had become the next best thing to actual creators to them.

After "the incident" the couple had needed a while to sort everything out. The concept of fighting over things for a whole vorn was still lost on Sunstreaker, or why it had been such a big thing when the two black and white bonded, but then again, he had never known what it was to _not_ be bonded to anyone and thus any argument that came up with his twin never lasted longer than a few joors. But even during those times they always would take care of each other, just like Jazz and Prowl did for each other and for him and his brothers, too, as did the whole Autobot army actually.

And to think he had been against staying.

"Sunny, you're doing it again. Are you alright?"

Sunstreaker looked from his worried twin to their equally worried brother/bonded. They had never been able to fully figure that one out because of the circumstances the bond had been formed in, but it didn't really make a difference to them either.

"I'm fine" he grumped and lightly squeezed the servos which sneak into his. The other two nodded and leaned a bit closer.

"You're not really still upset because of that one time Blue and I knew better how to keep us safe than you did, are you?"

"No, I just mourned the loss of jet-judo. I doubt we will be allowed to ever perform that again."

Sideswipe gave his trademark grin.

"Well, since when do we listen to anyone?"

"You will listen to me and I tell you to not do it, because then the seekers will be upset and we can all forget about peace and I'm really tired of constantly worrying about what building we might have to scratch you from next time, so just don't do it. Find another hobby, please."

With one last squeeze Sideswipe changed from Sunstreaker's to Bluestreak's free side.

"Don't worry, Blue. We'll behave."

The grey mech had justified reasons to doubt that, but accepted the words nonetheless. The red twin's next comment however would have had both him and Sunstreaker bleaching if they could.

"So ... when will _we_ adopt a sparkling?"

" ... Primus have mercy on us all."

**END **


End file.
